The Home Stretch

A week of transitions

The work is taking hold. And the hardest part is almost over. By early next week, I’ll have the entire piece cut out, some 120 pieces worth, and I’ll be working on spangling the evening sky with 60 some-odd  stars. Those stars are still to be cut on a diamond band saw before fusing: twelve cuts to each star. It’s impossible to cut the sharp inner angles any other way. Hard on the fingers, and noisy. But beautiful. And then about a hundred pieces to paint and fire. Pazienza.

Here’s a video of the bedazzler process if you’re interested: click the arrow to watch it. You can increase its side with the square box on the bottom right after clicking it.

An easier and very satisfying task has been to lay in sun rays made of glass “stringers,” strands of amber glass the diameter of angel hair pasta and spaghetti. They go down with Elmer’s white glue, which burns off entirely in the kiln but holds the pieces in place until the kiln takes over. They are fired to about 1450 degrees, which fixes them permanently, but doesn’t entirely melt them, so they maintain their profile and dimensionality.

And here's a shot of the pieces just before firing in the kiln.

More Transitions:

The days grow colder, and the leaves start to change along the river. You see the progress better in twilight than in full sun at this point: in the dusk the first changing leaves are rusty against the insistent gray-green of the pines and firs.

I have been listening to a remarkable album of deep choral music by Morton Lauridsen, a northwest composer. The album is called Light Eternal, and some of its cuts are on youtube.

One piece stands out right now:  it’s a choral piece based on a poem by James Agee. It’s a hard verse, but very consoling, for me at least. Some people think the final stanza is an existential lament, but I think it speaks to the need for all of us to see what’s around us, and find our place in the universe and its seasons.

Anyway, here is the poem:

Sure on this shining night of star-made shadows round,
kindness must watch for me this side the ground,
on this shining night, this shining night
Sure on this shining night of star-made shadows round,
kindness must watch for me this side the ground,
on this shining night, this shining night
The late year lies down the north
All is healed, all is health
High summer holds the earth, hearts all whole
The late year lies down the north
All is healed, all is health
High summer holds the earth, hearts all whole
Sure on this shining night,
sure on this shining, shining night
Sure on this shining night
I weep for wonder wand'ring far alone
Of shadows on the stars
Sure on this shining night, this shining night
On this shining night, this shining night
Sure on this shining night

I’m not sure that all is healed, all is health, not yet anyway. Yet we live in hope and work as best we can, finding and exercising kindness where we can. We wander under the stars, reflecting back on them. There’s a long way to go until we really see. 

Here is a link to the choral piece:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CyH9epNNx4g

A happy transition: 

Another welcome and happy transition: on Monday-Tuesday, I went down to Seattle to accompany my dear friend Arturo Araujo as we formally installed him as the new rector at the Arrupe Community at Seattle U. It was a moving experience to stand at the altar at the Chapel of St. Ignatius to welcome this generous, artful soul as my successor, and a welcome opportunity for me to say "thanks" to him, the SU Arrupe Community and the larger Seattle University community I've come to love over the past six years. Reflecting on those years, I treasure much, and in a special way, I'm aware of how much I learned at that table. Over the years, my simple service there at the chapel was a north star that kept me on track.

With that, I'll say goodnight.